The Four Corners of the Night
by B. Banana
Summary: Yaoi, complete, VikFlik. This story is a crime against all that's good and holy...but then again, it has FlikFlik action.
1. Chapter 1

"The Four Corners of the Night"

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WARNINGS: Um, bad stuff. Yaoi, gore, stuff.

DISCLAIMERS: Don't own, don't sue.

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"Ah, Jowston, the land of my birth!" Viktor's voice boomed out over the barren plain as he stretched his arms wide, as if trying to embrace the landscape. Flik stood behind him, an unimpressed frown on his face. He idly nudged Viktor's pack with his foot.

"Looks dead to me," the smaller man grumbled, looking from the leafless trees to the dry, yellow grass and finally to the unending horizon. "And flat," he added. "Are you sure we're not still in the badlands?"

"Shut up, Flik," Viktor muttered. "Just let me enjoy being home for a second." 

Flik grudgingly obliged. He was still mad at Viktor for deciding to enter Jowston via the badlands, instead of just taking the river route. _It's faster_, he'd said. _There's less traffic and bandits! Besides, _Flik heard Viktor's joking voice in his head; _do you really want to spend three weeks on a boat? _Never mind that Flik had nearly died on the trek through the desert, or that most of their supplies had been lost to wolves! They'd saved a week, and according to Viktor, that was all that mattered. Flik glared daggers at the back of Viktor's head.

"How far is Kuskus from here?" Flik asked after a long silent moment. His feet were aching--they'd had to make most of the journey to Jowston on foot after their horses had run off, scared by some unseen creature of the desert. The farther they traveled the heavier his pack got, but Flik would rather die than let Viktor carry it for him, as he had offered to do countless times during the past few days. However, as his gaze wandered over the vast plain, Flik thought Viktor would be lucky if he didn't end up carrying _him, _instead.

Viktor half turned, pinning the younger man with an unreadable look. "Another ten miles or so," he answered. He smiled, watching Flik's expression go from disgruntled to hateful. "I don't think we'll make it before dark," Viktor said, motioning to the already sinking sun. "But we should at least try. I don't want to camp out here."

"Why not? There's nothing for miles." Flik didn't bother scanning the horizon--he knew he wouldn't find anything worth looking at.

"Wrong." The larger man turned back around. "North Window is just beyond here."

"What...? How? I don't see anything," Flik said, momentarily forgetting the significance of the place.

"There's nothing to see," Viktor responded with a dry smile. "It's all dead." Beside him, Flik silently cursed his own stupidity and lack of tact. Why hadn't he remembered that? Of all the times to forget Viktor's dreadful past... Quickly, the younger man tried to recover.

"You're right," he said. "We should push on." Stooping, he hoisted his pack with only a little difficulty. He watched Viktor do the same. Flik frowned. It was odd to see Viktor so withdrawn. Being so close to the place where... all that bad business had happened must be more than a little unsettling. Flik mentally kicked himself again. He needed to stop being so selfish--Viktor had a lot more to complain about than he did.

They trudged on in silence; Flik was too embarrassed to strike up a conversation and Viktor was no doubt lost, thinking about events of long ago. The sun descended, its hazy yellow light glinting in their eyes. Eventually Flik gave up on trying to see where he was going, blindly following Viktor instead. It became apparent that neither man knew where he was going as Viktor stumbled on the roots of a tree, long since dead, and almost fell. The large man released a smothered curse as he lost his footing.

Flik said nothing, watching the display. Under any other circumstances he might have been tempted to poke fun at Viktor, but today he felt that it would be inappropriate. Instead, Flik held a hand over his eyes, hoping to block out the sun's harsh rays. It worked, to an extent--he could now see the vague outline of a town not even a mile off and the faint glimmer of the lake. That had to be Kuskus, he thought with relief. A long night's rest in an honest-to-God bed would do them both good. Sleeping in bedrolls for the past month had been hell on his back...

The younger man winced as he realized that wasn't the _only_ reason his back hurt. Flik glanced over at Viktor. Yes, he decided, a bed would do them both worlds of good.

"We're almost there," Flik muttered, looking back at Viktor, whom had fallen behind. He nodded, grimacing. Suddenly, Flik felt compelled to fill the silence. The longer it stretched on, the more disquieted Flik became. Viktor could have regaled him with at least ten "fantastic" stories by now. Why wouldn't he say anything?

"Is it hard; coming home?" Flik asked, directing his statement to the sky, rather than to Viktor. The larger man stared at him for a long moment. Flik met his gaze--trying to keep his own expression open and neutral, but only succeeding in looking tired and concerned. Viktor smiled then, the first real smile that Flik had seen from him upon entering Jowston. The slighter man returned the gesture, though he wasn't really sure why.

"It still surprises me, sometimes," Viktor said.

"What does?"

"Just how attractive you are." The dark-haired man turned away, mentally groaning as Flik rolled his eyes. This whole false modesty thing of Flik's was getting rather old, Viktor thought, sparing him a sidelong glance.

"I wish you wouldn't--" Flik started, but was interrupted by his partner.

"I don't get it," Viktor broke in, "you'll let all those women tell you all about your wonderful self, but the second I open my mouth you go cold."

"It's different with you," Flik answered, unconsciously tugging on the tails of his bandanna.

"How so?" Viktor watched the younger man grope for words. He was so bad at this--sometimes getting Flik to talk to him was like pulling his teeth. Viktor was coming to realize that Flik was the type of man that would rather just sleep with you than tell you why he wanted to.

Finally Flik came up with an answer. "Because you mean something to me and those women don't," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Can we just drop it?"

Viktor frowned. "You need to learn how to take a compliment, Flik." The other man didn't respond; he seemed content to trudge on in silence for the moment. So be it, Viktor thought. He didn't feel like talking any more, besides.

It was almost like he could feel it in his bones--North Window couldn't be far from here. Viktor had hoped that Flik would have been able to distract him, even a scathing argument would have been all right. However, the man had fallen back into his own sullen thoughts. The closer they got to the dead town the more jumpy Viktor felt, his hand hovering uneasily over the hilt of his sword. He looked up and winced. The first houses were clearly in sight.

This was stupid, Viktor decided. North Window simply _wasn't _anymore. It had been wiped out, obliterated. All that remained was the skeleton of the town that used to be his home. There was no reason for him to push Flik or himself any farther just to be away from this place. Why, he should just throw his stuff down now and make a camp.

Viktor couldn't do it. If anything, he started walking faster.

"Hey..." Flik muttered as he watched the other man pull away from him. "Wait up, would you?" He had to run to catch up to him. "What's the rush?" He asked, trying his best to ignore his throbbing legs.

When Viktor didn't respond, Flik followed his gaze to the horizon. "Oh. Is that Kuskus?" Inwardly, Flik breathed a sigh of relief. Much more of this and he was just going to fall over.

"No." Viktor said, crushing the other man's hopes with a single syllable. "That's North Window."

__

Ah. Flik backed off, not sure what to do. He took another look at the small, desolate town. Well, almost desolate, Flik amended. If his eyes were not mistaken, there was what looked to be a single inhabitant in North Window, harshly outlined by the dying sun. Even more strangely, he was waving. "Viktor... I thought you said the town was dead."

"It is," he responded. Looking up, Viktor was confronted with evidence that said otherwise. He stopped--motionless, as Flik had never seen him. The younger man could almost hear Viktor's thoughts racing... _Could someone have been left behind? No, I buried them all. Then...?_

More than half of Viktor wanted to run away--whatever was waiting for them there wasn't going to be good. But there were doubts...could he have been mistaken? He'd been almost mad with grief and rage; was it possible that someone had escaped unnoticed? Viktor watched the figure wave with a mixture of horror and hope.

Flik waited at his side, concern creasing his brow. He was feeling particularly useless--like he'd entered a battle without knowing why he was fighting. What was Viktor going to do? Never before had Flik seen a look like the one that was capturing the older man's features now. He wanted to leave.

"We should check it out," Viktor said, much to Flik's surprise. "It would be rude to ignore an invitation."

Silently, Flik cursed Viktor's morbid sense of curiosity. It was going to get them into real trouble one day.

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The moment he stepped into North Window Flik knew something was wrong. The air was different here...cold and stagnant. It was as if it hadn't passed between human lips in years, but that was ridiculous. He was outside, in open air. Nothing may have been moving, but it still seemed like everything was alive. The small, ramshackle buildings alternately turned him away and invited him into their dark recesses--begging him to see what lie just inside.

It was strange. Flik thought that at least the animals would have reclaimed the place after so many years, but he saw nothing. No rats, no birds, not even any insects floated in the dead air. He felt like he was trespassing, like at any moment he would be punished for stirring dust that had settled long ago.

Viktor wasn't helping to alleviate Flik's tension--he hadn't spoken a word since they started towards the town, and that unnerved the younger man all the more. Flik longed to grab his arm and drag him forcibly away, but Viktor's dark expression kept him from doing so. It wasn't like he could abandon him, either. Leaving Viktor here in this...place was unthinkable. Flik could only hope that their business here would be short.

Their footsteps echoed on the empty street. The sky seemed to darken as they pushed farther towards the center of the town. Or maybe it was the houses that made it appear so; they were darker; taller than the stoops at the entrance. They loomed over the pair almost threateningly.

"Viktor..." Flik whispered, immediately wondering why he dared not speak at full volume, "There's no one here. Let's leave."

"I used to live there," the other man stated, ignoring Flik's nervous pleading. He pointed to a modest house standing not three yards from them. Shudders hung haphazardly from the windows; huge chunks of missing plaster gave the residence a diseased, sickly appearance. The porch looked like it had been torn apart by a creature of great strength, and Flik wondered at it, but decided it best not to ask. The front door hung slightly ajar, allowing a glimpse into the devastation that lay beyond.

"When I opened the door I saw my mother standing in the kitchen. I was glad; I thought her back had gotten better." Flik watched as Viktor curled his hands into painfully tight fists. "I couldn't even defend myself when she came at me."

Flik moved closer to him, placing one hand over the other man's arm. Viktor didn't want to be telling this story, and Flik didn't want to be hearing it. They shouldn't be here--it wasn't good for either of them. "That's enough," he said gently. "Let's go."

Viktor turned, almost looking ready to agree with him, when a monstrous groan came from the decimated porch. Both men whipped around, swords half unsheathed.

"But, brother," said the man standing there, "you've only just returned."

Viktor blanched, making a grab for Flik's wrist. The larger man's grip tightened, unwittingly grinding the small bones together as the unknown man smiled down at them. Flik fought not to cry out.

"Wil..." Viktor choked. He was just as he had been nine years ago: not a day over sixteen, standing tall like he had every right to be alive. The hands that were resting easily on the banister didn't bear any sores from fending off his mother and grandmother, and that pointed, smiling face wasn't the ruin that it had been when Viktor had last seen him. His brother's dark eyes sparkled even in the dying light... it was just like he was coming home from South Window...

"Welcome home, Viktor." Wil smiled, a row of white, shiny teeth appearing over his full bottom lip.

As suddenly as Wil had appeared, Viktor's face darkened, drawing his sword. Flik, catching on quickly, readied his own weapon. Wil only ran a hand through his longish black hair, laughing.

"Oh, put it away," he said, "what have I done to you?" His smile was as bright as ever as he turned to Flik. "Nice to meet you, I'm Wil, Viktor's brother."

"Don't!" Viktor barked. Whether he was talking to Wil or to Flik was uncertain. As it was, Flik had no idea what was going on. Viktor had a brother...? He knew where all the looks had gone in the family. Wil was pointy--sprightly--utterly unappealing. And yet, there was something odd about him; his _mouth_...

"I'm just trying to get better acquainted! What's your name?" The man that claimed to be Viktor's brother called out to Flik. Viktor's arm shot out, protecting the younger man from gods knew what.

"What are you?" The fierce growl of Viktor's voice resounded in the bleak passage, echoing again and again before falling to a silent death. Flik watched with growing unease as Wil's expression changed. His cheerful welcoming was replaced with cold fury--and yet, his face never moved. It was like Flik could _feel_ it vibrating in the air around him. The man's grin, enervating before, caused the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. 

"Your brother. The one you killed. Surely you remember." Flik was mesmerized by the opening and closing of Wil's mouth, the way the pink of his tongue slipped back and over the line of his teeth. Flik took a step forward.

Viktor threw Flik backwards before he was aware of what he'd done. More than a few cobblestones came loose as the blue-clad man fell to the street with a clatter.

"You'll not have him, Neclord," snapped Viktor, nudging Flik to stand without turning away from his dead brother.

"How many times do I have to say it? I'm Wil. You pushed me down the stairs when I was four and told Mom that I tripped," the creature crossed his arms over his chest, gazed down Viktor with a challenging look in his eye. "You lost your virginity with Daisy's best friend, and when she found out about it, she wouldn't talk to you for months."

Viktor remained silent for a long time. His eyes flashed as Wil's smile widened even further. Finally, Viktor relaxed, lowering his sword almost carelessly. Flik saw through the easy charade--the rigid line of the older man's back gave him away. If Viktor got anymore tense his body would snap.

"I have no problem killing you again, Wil. You're already dead, this time."

Wil responded only by taking a step back, further into the house. A line marked his brow; his full lower lip stuck out in what could have been petulance or fear. But when Wil didn't say anything, Viktor turned slowly, cautiously, to Flik. "Go. We're leaving," said Viktor. He sheathed his sword with one short motion. "If it is what it says it is, it can't leave the house."

The other man looked doubtful, bothered by the idea of turning his back to Wil, and was relieved when Viktor shortly joined him. It felt wrong, retreating from the enemy. He spared a backward glance at the specter, and was horrified as Wil waved him goodbye. As he walked away, he couldn't help but wonder why the creature was letting them go...what Viktor said just seemed too unreal to possibly be true. But nevertheless, Wil made no move from the ruin of the porch, to stop them or otherwise.

It didn't sit well with Flik: that couldn't be the end of it. The hard set of Viktor's jaw told him that his assumption was quite correct--the end of this matter wouldn't come to an end, at least not for Viktor, for a very long, long time. Even as Flik watched, Viktor was agonizing over whatever had happened all those years ago.

What _had_ happened...? Flik cast an unsure glance at his partner. Now was not the time, nor the place to discuss this. Viktor needed to get out of here, even more than Flik _wanted_ to be. This place wasn't...healthy for him, Flik decided shakily.

The exit of North Window appeared like a shining beacon in the dark. As they passed over the threshold and into the wide world, Flik felt a giant weight being lifted off his chest--he could breathe again. His own relief must have been a mere shadow of Viktor's; however, the man did not glance over his shoulder as Flik had so frequently done, nor did he slow down. Viktor ran from North Window as if it was on fire, and Flik was closely on his heels.

It was another hour before Viktor stopped, the grueling pace he'd set from his former hometown making his tired feet scream. He knew that Flik must have been hurting just as bad--if not worse--but the younger man hadn't uttered a word since they'd left, much less opened his mouth to complain. Viktor was silently thankful. What he'd seen back there, what he'd heard...it was all too much. His family was dead--is dead. Viktor hadn't heard Wil's voice in years; he had forgotten what it sounded like. Though he didn't recall Wil being so bitter or so...dead.

Damn that Neclord! This was his doing, Viktor knew it. He wasn't sure how, but...who else would even know who Wil was? No one survived; no one but him. And North Window used to be such a tight-knit community...

Neclord had taken everything from him except his memories, and now sought to finish the job, apparently. It wasn't enough that Viktor's last memories of his brother were of the boy writhing in agony, begging for him to end it. It wasn't enough that the first person Viktor had ever killed was his little brother. Those memories would never leave him; when he took his final breath he knew he would be able to feel the ease with which his blade had pierced Wil's already decimated flesh, would be able to see his thin frame shudder with unbearable _pain_...

But Wil had always been Wil. He'd never been changed into one of those things like his mother and grandmother. The image Viktor carried of Wil had always been one of unsullied humanity, but no longer. Viktor had seen what he'd become--rather, what he'd been made to become. Wil wasn't his little brother anymore. He was...

...just another tool.

Flik watched as a myriad of emotions played over Viktor's face, uncomfortable, but unwilling to break the silence. Suppose Viktor resented his presence. Would things have played out differently if Flik weren't here? He shook his head, trying in vain to get his thoughts straightened out. It didn't matter. He _was_ there, and now Viktor needed him to be _here_. It wasn't Flik's dead brother they'd seen in North Window; his own wants and needs weren't priority at the moment.

Throwing his pack on the ground, Flik approached Viktor cautiously. The man was in a dangerous mood, and although Flik didn't think Viktor would ever try and hurt him, sneaking up on him would probably be a bad idea.

"Viktor, this is far enough. Let's just camp here," said Flik quietly. North Window was a mere dot on the horizon, much too far away for them to be in any physical danger from it. He could still feel its presence, though, dead and frighteningly blank in the back of his mind. And if Flik was still aware of it, Viktor must have been able to sense it. But there was nothing they could do--night had almost fallen and they could walk no further.

The older of the two men agreed with a grunt. Without any words they set to work establishing a camp, setting their bedrolls around a small but growing fire. After a few seconds, Flik moved his bedroll, positioning it beside Viktor's instead of across the fire. He knew instinctively that it was the right thing to do--that it was what they both needed tonight. Viktor smiled at him wearily, the hell that the day had been showing clearly on his strong features.

They ate stale bread and what little dried beef they had left, neither saying much. Only when Viktor had choked down the last of his food did he say anything.

"I never told you about Wil, did I?" He asked; his dark eyes reflecting the dancing flame. Flik set his own food down and shook his head.

"I didn't even know you had a brother," he responded. With a tired groan he reached around to remove his cape and then his belt. His boots were next, and all of his discarded items were thrown into a heap beside the fire. Flik settled back with a sigh of relief and almost-comfort.

"He was such a stupid kid." Viktor released a small chuckle as Flik looked up, shocked. After removing his own boots and belt, the larger man joined his partner, stretched out on the ground. "Really," Viktor continued, "every time I'd tell him not to do something, he'd immediately go do it. But he never wasted an opportunity to tell on me if I got in trouble."

Flik watched the stars emerge as he listened. "And I'm sure that was a common occurrence," he said dryly. He rested his head on a propped elbow so he could look at Viktor while he was speaking.

Viktor shrugged in response to Flik's last comment. "I never got away with anything because of that kid." He fell silent for a moment, then snorted. "I remember once I spent all day at the lake trying to catch a fish to put in Daisy's bed--"

"That's horrible," Flik interrupted, smiling despite himself.

"I know," Viktor replied with a dubious smile of his own. "But Wil told my mother and she made me cook that night." The large man barely paused for breath before continuing on. "Another time, when we were really young, he'd done something to make me really angry--I don't remember what, now, but I tied him to the tree behind our house--"

Viktor stopped, catching the horrified look on Flik's face. "You never grew up with siblings, Flik; you don't know what it's like." He smiled widely, leaning over the other man. "It's like you're always at war--but at night your enemy is begging you to tell him stories before bed. It's...hard to explain."

Flik gazed upwards, saddened by Viktor's wistful happiness. He'd never felt anything like what Viktor was describing, but which was better? To have it and then have it torn away so painfully or to never have possessed it at all? With a situation like this, Flik was almost appreciative of his own painful history. Almost.

"Wil was too young when our father died; he didn't remember anything about him. He only ever had Mother and me." Viktor chuckled bitterly, looking away. "Poor kid, he must have looked up to me a lot."

The younger man leaned forward, reaching out to hold the strong curve of Viktor's jaw with his hand. The fond memory that was present in the man only a moment before had vanished, revealing a tired sorrow.

"I know it doesn't mean much now, but I'm sorry for what happened to you and your family. I wish that it never happened."

Viktor only sighed heavily, pulling Flik to him. "I know," he said. "I know you do."


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMERS: Don't own, don't sue.

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Flik inhaled deeply as he awoke, staring blindly into the cold, empty sky. The stars winked merrily, but their beauty was lost on him. It couldn't have been three hours since he'd fallen asleep, exhausted after a day of endless walking. And he wasn't just physically tired, either; coming face to face with Viktor's past had drained him mentally and emotionally as well.

The other man had fallen asleep before Flik, actually. He'd felt Viktor's breathing slow and even long before his own body complied with his needs. Flik kept seeing it in his head--Wil, or what might've been him, once, ugly and yet beautiful and yet...

Flik shook his head. Whatever it was, it was seven years dead, now. Why was he still thinking about him? He'd never seen an honest _ghost_ before, though he'd known they walked the earth just as surely as he did. Flik hadn't expected them to be so...alluring.

It hurt Viktor to see his brother in such a way--alive and breathing and _bitter_--but from the look of him earlier he was already trying to convince himself that what he saw had never been and Wil was still resting in peace below the town.

The worst of it all was that Flik could not do or say anything to make it better. Hell, he'd been fourteen when North Window was attacked, and Flik had been ready to go to the demon today! He'd been nothing but a liability to Viktor. Useless...

Flik groaned, feeling a small rock gouge into his thigh for the first time. He sat up, letting Viktor fall to the ground unceremoniously. Although it was a bit warm outside, Flik liked having Viktor close to him. Viktor was one of those people that needed physical contact to be comforted, and, honestly, Flik needed to feel the other man's presence as well. What had happened today...what could have happened...

When Flik had finally given into Viktor nine months ago, he'd been sure that nothing could come between them. Now, the way Flik had been so ready to go to the demon unnerved him. He told himself that it had just been the creature's charm, that it meant nothing. Still, a small seed of doubt had been planted.

Viktor muttered something incomprehensible in his sleep, causing Flik's frown to deepen. How much would he forgive? Where, exactly, was Viktor's limit? Flik thought maybe he should apologize, but he wasn't quite sure how. What could he say? "I'm sorry for being attracted to your dead brother?"

Dark brows drew together and Viktor woke up as Flik studied him.

"What's wrong?" Viktor grumbled, his voice roughened by sleep. Flik looked down at the large man, feeling, for the first time in his life, a little intimidated. It was too much, his presence; Flik needed to get away.

With ease that he didn't really feel, Flik stood up. "Nothing," he said, "I'll be right back." He sauntered off, letting Viktor draw his own conclusions. Flik heard the other man fall back and sigh, and was glad. If Viktor asked him why he was going, Flik doubted he would have been able to lie to him. All he wanted was a few moments alone, to sort through his thoughts. Once Flik had a handle on things he'd come back.

With no moon and only the stars to guide him, it wasn't surprising that Flik had some problems navigating over the unfamiliar terrain. Twice he almost crashed to his knees, narrowly avoiding a sprained ankle as his foot fell into some rodent's hole.

The third time he lost his footing Flik didn't bother putting his hands out to save himself. Here was as good as any place to think, he mused, thankful of the dry dead grass to cushion his fall.

Now that he was alone, Flik was having trouble concentrating on any one thing. In fact, he was having trouble thinking of anything at all. The stars--different from the ones he was used to--seemed to dance before him, a lulling, comforting display. Flik was reminded that he was very tired. Only the sound of his own heart alleviated the silence of the night; Flik felt truly alone under the midnight sky.

It was like he was a child again. How many nights had he spent just like this? Thinking of nothing, of everything, or just sleeping... But once he'd met Odessa, time alone hadn't seemed so important anymore. Flik hadn't even realized that he'd missed it.

Flik's eyelids drooped, stars forgotten.

"It's an easy enough thing to reclaim," a laughing voice whispered deliciously in his ear. Flik sprang forward and rolled, landing in a half-crouch a yard away. He groped for a sword that wasn't there, fighting off a feeling of powerlessness. But when no immediate attack came, Flik became confused.

The owner of the voice separated himself from the darkness, wearing the same easy smile he had been when Flik had seen him earlier in that day. Wil. The...boy held himself erect--apparently amused to no end to find Flik kneeling before him.

Flik rose swiftly to his feet, taking a few steps back as he did so. But if anything, Wil's smile grew wider with Flik's increased wariness, and he edged closer. 

"We were never properly introduced," began Wil. His voice, though loud in the quiet meadow, didn't seem out of place at all--like it had been assimilated with the other night sounds. Flik felt the sound wash over him like the insistent current of a river.

Flik bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, refusing to let himself get caught up in the creature a second time. He'd be damned if Viktor would need to bail him out again.

"Why are you here?" Flik ground out, more than a bit desperate for a weapon. Anything would do...a stick, for instance. But there was nothing, not even a heavy rock was in sight. Damn. Wil edged closer, making Flik feel cornered despite his open surroundings. For a bare second he thought of calling Viktor, but rejected the idea just as quickly as it came to him. He could handle this on his own--Wil was just a ghost, after all, just a bit of cold air.

"I'm here because my over-bearing older brother didn't introduce me to his handsome companion," breathed Wil, suddenly appearing so close that Flik could smell him: the sickeningly sweet smell of decay, like rotting meat or...

...or blood.

"The scent betrays my creature; I'm afraid, young man. Flik, isn't it?"

As soon the new, deep voice spoke, a Wil's strong hands seized him about the neck, strangling him even as he was lifted several inches off the ground. His feet fought to gain purchase and failed, he hung uselessly as the breath was squeezed from him.

Wil stared up at Flik, all the bitter laughter gone from his pointy face. The thing's expression was blank--dead, really, as he held Flik with a strength that was truly unnatural. Divots of cold flesh were lodged underneath Flik's fingernails as he clawed at the hands that held him. But Wil's vice-like grip didn't loosen, even as a large patch of skin was torn from the back of his hand, exposing muscle and bone.

"He won't stop until I tell him to--you see, he's quite dead," the voice mused from the impenetrable dark, sounding as close as Wil to Flik, yet far away, like he was speaking from a distant tree-top.

No command that Flik heard was issued in the dark meadow, but Wil suddenly dropped him in a gasping heap upon the ground. Flik looked up, massaging his bruised throat, only to be rendered breathless once again.

__

No. No, he's dead!

Neclord rose out of the ground; it shimmered around him like so much parting water. His pupil-less eyes narrowed in what could have been a number of emotions--if the vampire did indeed possess them--and he crossed the short distance to Flik and Wil with an air of nobility that not even the Emperor had possessed.

With the wave of a long-nailed hand that was merely a twitch, Neclord released whatever spell he held over Wil. Flik bit off a scream as the thing collapsed on top of him, the magic that had glamoured his appearance dispersed as well. For a long moment Flik was frozen, horrified by Wil's true appearance. Gaping patches of skin hung loose or missing, the edges decaying and black. An eye was gone from its socket, the putrid organ dangled from a single nerve to touch and play on those lips that Flik had found so alluring only hours before. As Flik scrambled to be away from the no longer living corpse, something broke inside of it. Flik struggled trying to contain his heaving stomach as the corpse's viscera oozed onto the dead grass, filling the air with its overpowering stench.

Flik staggered to his feet, trying to ignore what lie just at his feet. Neclord smiled almost fondly at Wil before nudging him aside and continuing on his stately way. He stopped barely a handbreadth's away, smiling wickedly into Flik's pensive but determined face.

"You're dead," Flik said defiantly. "We killed--"

"--my shadow. It was of little consequence to me," the vampire interrupted. "What are you doing away from your camp, boy? Don't you realize it's dangerous out here?"

Flik had no answer and so did not supply one. Everything inside was clamoring for him to escape, to defend himself, if nothing, but he couldn't. The part of his brain that was still rational knew it was futile--he wasn't going to make it through this in one piece.

"Nothing to say, then, boy?" Neclord's grin suddenly widened. "Surely you aren't stalling so that your friend has time to save you!" A dry chuckle, like the whispering of mummified flesh being torn apart, chilled Flik to the bone.

"You must realize that a bumbling fool such as Viktor would never be able to rescue you--he's so inept at caring for those he loves." The vampire leaned in even closer, studying the planes and hollows of Flik's face speculatively. "And he _does_ love you, doesn't he?"

Flik refused to meet the demon's eyes, and shied away from Neclord's close proximity. The vampire put out a hand to stop him, his long, sharpened nails digging into the already tortured flesh of Flik's neck. "Don't," he said, with so much warning packed into the single syllable that Flik became entirely still. However, he dragged his gaze over Neclord, over the pale gray skin and clothes fit only for a corpse, until their eyes met.

Neclord backed away, just the slightest bit, a pleased expression spreading over his horrific features. His hand migrated from Flik's neck to his chin; he studied Flik as he turned his face this way and that.

"You are all he has," he said slowly. "I wonder how much it would hurt him to see you dead. Enough to break, do you think?"

Flik stiffened.

"Relax, boy. I'm not going to kill you until Viktor is here to see it." The vampire released him, walking a short distance away. Given space, Flik suddenly felt empowered enough to speak.

"Why...does Viktor matter so much?" He choked out. Flik's body felt like it was burning, the demon's dangerous presence had flooded his senses--he was just becoming aware of it.

"Matter? Viktor doesn't matter. I just don't like him." Neclord twitched his cape into place around him, correcting an error only he could see. "I want to take him and everything that he's ever come into contact with and kill it," the vampire explained simply, with no hint of malice in his voice at all. Flik was taken aback by Neclord's easy tone and manner--like doing all this meant nothing at all to him, another amusing game to play to pass the time.

It made him sick. He killed a whole town full of people, just because he had nothing better to do at the time. And now, it was very possible that Flik and Viktor were going to die, too, because one had dared to live through the massacre. Viktor had lost his family because...

Flik spared a glance down at what used to be Wil, and his nausea was reinforced. He hoped Viktor would never see it. He'd already seen so much...and if Neclord had his way, he would be in for a whole lot more. It was stupid to pray that Viktor would just stay asleep and never come looking for him. Even if Flik had been given the chance to tell Viktor to stay away, he would not have listened.

"But these are such dull surroundings," Neclord said, interrupting Flik's fevered thoughts. "Let's go and wait somewhere more familiar."

The ground underneath Flik's feet suddenly became unsubstantial, as if it was a bog or quicksand. He watched in fascinated horror as his feet slowly disappeared into the hard-packed dirt, then his shins and knees. Flik was held immobile--though if that was the effect of the magic or his own fear, he never found out. Once he was in to his upper thighs the ground seemed to swallow him all at once, and Flik was faced with the sensation of being buried alive. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't hear or see; it was like he was nothing, no where.

And then suddenly he _was_. His feet hit a hardwood floor before he could even recognize it or know it was there. Flik gasped as if his lungs had been starved for oxygen, which he found as he hit the air, that they were not. A second later and Neclord was with him again, materializing out of the floor as he had done out in the meadow. His back was pointedly turned towards the window.

Flik quickly scanned the room, looking for weapons. He saw several possibilities lying about the small, dark space: bits of broken furniture, even the assorted pipe. But how much good would these things do against a vampire? Did he dare take a chance, and attack when it was almost guaranteed to backfire on him?

Anything was better than dying without a fight, Flik decided. Even without a chance...

He took a few steps backward into the corner. There was a the remnants of a chair lying in pieces on the floor there, and if he could just get to it without being noticed... Flik made sure to keep his head down as he moved--let Neclord think what he would--and slowly knelt, picking up a chunk of wood without really seeing it.

"Don't make a fool out of yourself by trying, boy," the vampire growled, half-turning. "If your team of six couldn't defeat me without magical aide, do you think you even have a chance?" Neclord crossed the room in a few long strides, his polished boots sounding especially loud on the rotting wooden floor. He stopped when he was perhaps a yard away from Flik.

"You're not going to make this difficult for me, are you?" Though Neclord stood at about Flik's height, he suddenly seemed much taller, like his presence had expanded to fill the dank little room. Flik wanted to take a step back, but even if he had been willing to give up face, the wall was right behind him. The vampire had effectively cornered him--Flik wasn't going anywhere.

"Am I supposed to make it easy for you to kill me?" Flik asked, bluffing confidence. His insides were screaming--telling him to get away when there was no rational way to do so. The current outlook on the situation was more than a little bleak. If something didn't happen he'd be just another casualty of the North Window incident--albeit a bit of a delayed one. Flik swallowed the dread that threatened to overtake him.

Neclord said nothing in reply, just stared at the young man with an expression of disgust before turning his back once again. As he was returning to the window, he muttered, "Just stay quiet until I have a use for you."

Flik didn't even have the time to let the vampire's words register before his frantic thoughts were seized and stilled, and everything fell into inky darkness.

++

Viktor was cold. That alone should have told him something was very wrong. With Flik beside him, he rarely ever had the chance to feel the unpleasant weather. The fact that all his extremities were stiffened by cold told him that one of two things had happened: one, Flik was dead, or two, Flik was gone. Viktor preferred to believe the latter.

Sitting up confirmed his suspicions, but did not alleviate his worries. Flik was no where to be seen, though his personal effects lay scattered where he'd left them a few hours before. Common sense told Viktor that Flik was probably away answering nature's call, but the knot of uneasiness in his stomach said otherwise. The night was too dark, and the spot where Flik should have been lying was already cold. Something wasn't right... Where and why would Flik have run off? Especially this close to North Window...

But if he did get up and go looking for Flik, and the younger man really was all right, than Viktor would be in trouble. Flik hated feeling like he was being checked up on, or babied. Viktor frowned; picturing the man's peeved face.

"I can take care of myself," he'd say. "Just because you're bigger than I am doesn't mean that you have to take care of me!" And if Flik thought he was being especially pompous, he'd probably hit him.

But Viktor couldn't ignore the bad feeling he had. There were creatures just waiting for the chance to get revenge on Viktor, and hurting Flik would be an excellent way to accomplish that. And if Flik were ever injured because of something Viktor had done--even indirectly--he would never be able to forgive himself.

If it were any other place, Viktor would have simply laid back down and went back to sleep, but this was North Window, and he couldn't take the risk of Flik being in danger. Mad or not, Viktor would feel better if Flik were near him. Grabbing his boots and sword from near the fire--and noting that Flik's were still there, too, along with his cape--Viktor set out to look for the younger man. Even if Viktor had to drag him by the tails of his bandanna, Flik was coming back to the campsite with him.

Viktor had no idea which way Flik might have headed; it was dark, and one way looked much like the other. He had nothing with which to make a torch, and the only light was being filtered down from the stars. The stillness of the night was broken by Viktor's loud curses as he fought to contain his rising panic.

"If Mother could hear you talking like that, she'd have your tongue." 

Viktor abruptly stopped muttering to himself, though he did not need to turn around to guess the voice's origin. He had jumped to the conclusion that Wil was simply a wayward spirit too easily, it seemed. Readying his weapon, Viktor silently chided himself. He really should have known better than to take the demon's words as truth.

Wil stood just behind him as expected; though his appearance was much changed. Instead of the attractive boy Viktor had seen earlier that day, Wil appeared as he should be--that was, a walking corpse. And he was in bad shape, as well; Wil looked like he'd been torn apart and then hastily put back together by an extremely careless hand. He was hunched over, cradling what was left of his midsection with arms that were nothing more than bones. Wil glared up at him with one glassy eye that was sunk so far into his skull that Viktor couldn't believe that it still could see.

"Where's Flik?" Viktor growled, the zombie's sudden appearance removing all doubt that Flik was not in danger. His sword rang as he pulled it free of his scabbard.

"Oh, Brother, Brother! You do have such a hard time keeping the things you care for safe, don't you? What's your excuse this time?" Wil spoke with vocal chords that could not have possibly produced sound. The effect was revolting.

"Tell me where he is!" Viktor raised his weapon, though it was nothing more than a formality--he doubted that Wil could cross the short distance to him without falling completely apart.

"You should know where he is, Viktor. After all, that place holds so many memories for you and me. I'm hurt that you've forgotten!" 

Viktor closed his eyes for a brief moment. Flik was in North Window, more likely than not at his old house. But, if Wil hadn't taken him, who had? 

The answer to the question caused Viktor's heart to fall to the bottom of his stomach. Neclord. Neclord had taken him. That was as plain to see as the thing that used to be his brother standing in front of him. For a long while coherent thoughts couldn't form through Viktor's dread.

"What's the matter, _Brother_? Are all your inadequacies finally becoming apparent to you?" Wil's words were acid, scathing and harsh. Viktor opened his eyes and saw no hint of anything that had used to be his family. Wil truly was dead.

"Wil, I killed you once because I couldn't stand to see you suffer, but I guess I failed you. So this time, for your sake, I hope you stay dead."

Viktor felt no remorse, anguish, or anything that could even vaguely be construed as sadness as he removed Wil's head cleanly from his drooping neck. It was no harder than removing a flower's blossom from its stem.

He turned from Wil, silently promising to give him another burial as soon as he was able. With a sigh that could have been determined or panicked, or perhaps a mixture of both, Viktor sheathed his sword and turned, once again, towards North Window.

There was a single light burning in one of the houses. From this distance, it could have been a lonely traveler's lantern, or perhaps even a star. What was happening in that room? Did he want to know?

Viktor took off running before his mind could formulate any possible ideas.

++

Neclord looked down at the crumpled human with a sneer, delivering a sharp kick before he even knew he wanted to. There were very few reasons why he would deign to be around humans--to eat them was one, and to kill them, another--and this particular one was being to try him. It wasn't so much that he was loud or even overly aggressive, it was just that he was related in some way to Viktor.

He despised that man. For a long while it was simply because he was "the one that got away," as humans so aptly put it, but after Viktor and his troop of idiots had almost defeated him--in his own castle! --Neclord began thinking of ways to seriously hurt him. The death of Viktor's family and everything he held dear wasn't enough to break him, but it had come so tantalizingly close! Neclord decided to see just how much Viktor could stand.

The opportunity, the timing, the very instance; all had been perfect. At first, Neclord had only wished to taunt Viktor with the images of his family, alive and whole. However, when he'd seen the other, younger man Viktor was traveling with through Wil's eyes, he'd known he had the chance to make this more than a cruel trick.

Who would have thought that the hulking oaf of a man was _that _way? A ghastly smile grew on Neclord's ugly face. Who would have thought that he was foolish enough to ever bring something he cared about back here? Viktor deserved whatever was coming to him.

Neclord turned back into the room, facing Viktor's slumbering man. He was half-lying, half-sitting in the corner; his face set in a ferocious scowl despite the entrancing sleep Neclord had trapped him in. He'd seen when he looked at...Flik, he guessed his name was, just how deep the feeling ran between them. Neclord was assured a grand show when he killed Flik, to say the least.

But was there something more he could do, just to make it that much sweeter? Maiming him, for instance? Surely, marring the young man's beauty would have a disastrous effect on both the man and Viktor. Neclord bent down to look at Flik more closely. A finger, a toe? Or perhaps, the _nose_? Possibilities flooded the vampire's mind.

As quickly as the idea came Neclord discarded it. To feel the full effects of losing a limb, he'd have to leave both of them alive, and that certainly wouldn't do. He needed something sudden and horrible and so utterly _damning _that neither man would have the will to keep on living. Something to break them emotionally and mentally before Neclord crushed them physically.

Neclord gazed at the young man as he pondered. He was restless in his sleep, fighting Neclord's command even while incapacitated. The vampire snorted, finding the man's endless resistance and stupidity a bore. He was a perfect match for Viktor...

That was it. Neclord almost laughed aloud when it occurred to him.

Betrayal.

If Flik thought that he'd betrayed Viktor and if Viktor thought Flik had betrayed him, it would ruin both of them. It was perfect, and he knew just the way to pull it off. After all, it was only a matter of illusions. Granted, maintaining the illusions for both Viktor _and_ Flik could take up a great deal of the rune's energy, but the result would be worth it.

The first thing he had to do was discover what would hit Flik the hardest. This involved a simple delving into his mind--a trick anyone with a True Rune could manage--and a quick look around. Ignoring the barrage of "get OUT, get OUT, GET _OUT_!!" that assailed him the moment he entered, Neclord began searching for any dark guilt or desire the young man might have. 

There were none. Neclord wondered how this could be. Everyone, every _human,_ had some dark secret that they kept hidden--explored only on the darkest of nights. But this one had nothing. He loved Viktor, and before that, some chit of a girl. The man truly was useless. His mind was as open and guileless like nothing he'd ever seen before. 

Neclord probed deeper. Something from his past, his childhood, perhaps? But that didn't yield any results either. At this point, he would have been willing just to take a wealth of shame! 

The vampire was just about ready to give up--perhaps maiming actually was the way to go--when he happened upon an object of considerable interest.

__

Oh, my_. How interesting. _

Neclord decided that it would do nicely for what he had in mind.


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMERS: Don't own, don't sue.

++

Where was he? This wasn't where he was before, Flik realized dully. But what did that mean? It was hard to process his thoughts; everything was coming to him slowly, like reality was a lazy tide just lapping at his toes. When he tried to remember how he'd ended up here he found that his short term memory had become fuzzy...He remembered entering North Window and meeting Wil, and then... He had no way of knowing that what he was experiencing was a kind of magical backlash, brought on by an unwanted presence in his mind. But even if he had, the information would have been lost on him.

This room was more comfortable than the one before, he thought. Rather spartan in decor, the place contained only a bed, a table, and some chairs. His vision was still too foggy to make out any colors in the room, though Flik imagined that it should be done in varying colors of blue.

Flik picked himself up off the floor with difficulty--his head felt thick and his limbs were unwieldy, refusing to comply with his commands. He pitched forward upon making it to his feet, grabbing the wall just in time to avoid splitting his head open. His white-knuckled hand appeared against the dark surface of the wall like a specter, his pale flesh contrasting with the shadowy surroundings. Somehow the sight of that hand was enough to fling him back into reality; it seemed strange, alien; and yet, totally his _own_. As if he was looking at himself from far away.

He was confused. Why was his own hand alarming him so? Yet, the longer he stared, the more Flik feared that his knees might completely give way, and he would collapse in on himself--unable to cope with the inner turmoil he was thrown into. Unthinkingly, Flik ran the shaking hand through his hair in an attempt to further calm himself, only to realize why he was so unnerved.

The hand did not move. _That was not his hand._

Flik pushed himself away from the wall so quickly and with such force that he barely remained balance as the backs of his knees collided with the bed.The corner where he had only just stood was shrouded in shadows, still, though another's presence was immediately discernable in the room. Flik lacked the voice to call out; whatever it was that had been disabling him earlier was still wreaking havoc on his senses. However, the other entity seemed to hear and obey his unsaid wishes, and stepped fully into the wan light.

This time Flik was unable to catch himself as he fell gracelessly backwards onto his rear, nor was he capable of being grateful that the bed was there to catch him. His mouth fell open in an expression of pure shock as he stared back at the now visible figure. He was incapable of understanding what he clearly saw standing before him.

It was him, exactly as Flik had appeared a few days ago when he'd last seen his reflection. The thing even had the minute scar bisecting the left eyebrow, just as Flik had. For an impossibly long second, Flik wondered if perhaps it wasn't just a mirror. However, that illusion was broken when Flik once again rose to his feet, and the other him failed to mimic his actions.

"What the hell are you?" Flik demanded of the thing that was not him, his voice sounding mute and ineffectual in the small, enclosed room. Weak or not, the sound broke the other of his paralysis; it took one slow, deliberate step towards Flik, then another, and another, until they stood face to identical face. His doppelganger regarded him coolly for a moment before his face broke into what Flik could only describe as a wicked smile.

For the first time Flik actually heard his own voice. Not deep, but mellifluous, the thing spoke using his vocal chords. "'The hell,' indeed," it said. "What do I look like?" It inched closer, and Flik resisted the urge to push it away. He couldn't back away, either, lest he fall in a vulnerable position on the bed. For some reason, he knew that would be an unwise thing to do with the creature nearby. What could he do? He had nothing to attack it with. 

"Well, what do I look like?" The demon--for surely that was what this thing must've been--indicated that its previous question wasn't a rhetorical one. Its--his--blue eyes flashed as he leaned away from Flik, as if it was displaying itself. Flik's gaze darted past the other Flik, scanning the room for any possible escapes, and found with a sickening surge of dread that there were none. Not even a window interrupted the dark blankness of the walls. His eyes returned to the double standing before him.

"You're--" he started to say, but his voice caught in his throat, unable to finish the thought. He was him, or at least he looked like him, but his mouth refused to form the words. He balked at the thought of sharing his identity, even if this was all fake, which he expected it was. The whole situation reeked. "You're not real." Flik finished. 

"Of course I am," the other returned. "How could I be standing here, if I wasn't?" 

"I--" Flik was unable to think of a reasonable explanation, and the thing with his body knew it. However, the look of smug, self-satisfaction growing on the demon's--Flik's--face made him feel less uneasy and more angry. Absently, Flik wondered if he looked as infuriating when he was pleased with himself. 

Flik's anger gave him confidence that he didn't have before. He was fed up with all of this; he was tired, and he just wanted to get to Kuskus, or, that failing, he wanted to curl up with Viktor and sleep for days. And this imitation of himself was standing right in his way. He made to shove the double out of his way, had almost brushed past him when the other Flik pushed against him, hard, and cleanly swept his feet from underneath him. He landed on the bed with a grunt; his breath was knocked from him as he felt his own body settle on top of him.

It was...odd. Something so familiar and yet so foreign, the body pressed up against him he knew intimately, but he didn't know it at all. The way it felt--the sharp pressure of hipbones digging into his thigh, the hand twining with his own and pressing it into the mattress--that could have been anyone. But the very fact that he knew that it was his body--that what he felt now was what others felt when they were with him...

"Get off!" Flik fought to free his arms, one trapped under the other's knee and the other held, almost lovingly, by its hand. As he struggled he found, not surprisingly, that its strength was equal to his own. Flik bucked to throw the doppelganger off of him, but realized instantly that it was the wrong thing to do. His own image leered down at him, his face filling his vision like some kind of demented mirror. Flik was sure that he had never worn an expression quite like that one, ever. If this thing was pretending to be him, it was doing a sorry job of it.

What had been anger before quickly grew into fury as Flik realized that the demon had trapped him in such a way that the only way he would be able to get up would be if the demon decided to let him up. "Get off before I tear you apart," he said slowly, forming the words meticulously and with care. He was dangerously close to screaming and he was grasping for calm that he didn't possess.

To his utter shock, it _laughed_. It threw its head back, baring the smooth, white expanse of its neck, and roared with laughter. Flik could only watch, amazed, as his likeness's face contorted with merriment and blue eyes dancing with mirth once again held him. "Tear me apart?" It said incredulously, a smile gracing its fine features. "Destroy me? I never took you as being self-destructive." It leaned over him, pressing its face close until their noses almost touched.

"You're not--" Flik bit out, but the other Flik didn't give him a chance to finish.

"I am," it broke in. They were so close Flik could feel its hot breath against his face. He resisted the urge to run his tongue over his lips. As it was, eyes that he'd only seen reflected back at him were scouring his features in a way that was not entirely comfortable or pleasant. "And wouldn't it be a shame to destroy something of such beauty...?" It purred, bringing its free hand to smooth the hair back from Flik's forehead.

Flik froze. He desperately wanted to cry out, "Don't touch me!" But for the second time since meeting the double, his voice remained locked in his throat. This _could_ _not_ be happening. His mind shouted reasons why the situation he found himself in--pinned by _himself _to a bed--simply had to be a dream. Flik shook his head, looking up at what was _not_ him. It wasn't real...but the sword-callused hand that now rested on his cheek felt real enough, and the weight of the body pressing him into the sheets was difficult to deny.

The creature looked amused as he stared down at his likeness. "This _is_ happening," it told him, "you're not dreaming." Flik stopped shaking his head, but turned away from the disturbing image, praying to be woken up. 

"I don't see why you're so upset," the other Flik continued, "this is everything you've ever wanted, isn't it? Isn't it true? Why you can never be happy because no one can ever compare to what you see in the mirror..."

"No!" Flik snapped, finding his voice. "I am happy!"

"But you wonder," it returned. "When it's late at night and you might be the only man alive, you wonder. Don't bother lying--I know all your secrets."

The horror apparent in Flik's eyes told the other all that it needed to know. It could have been compassion or desire that captured the creature's face as it said, "You don't have to wonder anymore."

Flik gasped as the short distance between their lips was closed and the demon's tongue slipped inside his mouth. He was too stunned to respond, violently or otherwise. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Flik noted that the other Flik tasted of cinnamon and something else that he couldn't quite place. _Is that what I...? _No. He wasn't going to complete that thought.

"How you taste, how you _feel_..." it breathed, breaking away and licking its lips. Flik said and did nothing; the only option left to him was to wait for the other's next move. And it came all at once--the creature covering Flik's mouth with its own once again, and at the same time, pushing his shirt up so its long-fingered hand could explore the pale, toned midsection underneath.

Cringing and sinking into the bed as far as possible, Flik tried his damnedest to be free of the other's touch. It was horrible--the hands he saw and used everyday were suddenly treacherous, violating. The boundaries of what was him and what wasn't were swiftly becoming blurred; he wasn't even sure that it _wasn't_ him anymore.

Flik attempted once again to liberate his hands, if only so he could shield his gaze from the face that was so achingly familiar to him. He couldn't help but feel betrayed--the image in the mirror was suddenly turning traitor. And it wasn't about trust, per se, but rather that he had ever expected a threat from this direction at all. It was this manner of being unprepared that left him feeling like he'd been broadsided.

The creature ended the kiss, but did not let Flik up. It shifted, bringing Flik's arm down so that it could be trapped in the same manner as the other, freeing both of its hands. Taking hold of either side of Flik's face, the double forced Flik to look up. "Give in to me," it said, smiling reassuringly. "You know you're curious, and no one has to know. Not Viktor..." 

Hands that Flik had mistaken as his own trailed downward, a path snaking down his neck and chest that almost seemed to burn. Fingers sporting scars that Flik remembered getting when he was young and clumsy with a sword followed the lines of his ribs to his spine, where the feather-light touches there caused him to arch forward against the other's chest.

Flik bit the inside of his cheek. He hadn't meant to respond that way. It was an automatic reaction, to be sure...

The other laughed deep in its throat. "Finally, a response," it said, sounding truly pleased. The hands came away from his back, were gone for a moment, much to Flik's relief. 

"Get off of me," Flik growled, defiant now that the creature's hands and mouth weren't on him. 

"No," it said, "I don't think I will." The hands returned, settling on the front of his pants this time.

"What?!" Flik exclaimed, though it sounded more like a wordless cry of surprise. Had he had the leverage, he would have jumped away. But as it was, he remained trapped underneath the other's body. It looked pleased as it started picking at his laces. More than ever, Flik struggled to get loose, but it was in vain.

Flik's breath caught in his chest and he was sure that his heart stopped beating as the other's hand disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. His sharp gasp sounded deafeningly loud to his ears as the demon held him, and the soft chuckle in reply was lost on him. 

In spite of Flik's struggling, the demon continued, seemingly gaining more from the man's protest than anything else. It was a moment before it leaned over and kissed him again, starting at his mouth, but eventually making its way down his jaw line and to the hollow of his neck. Flik responded as if it were Viktor on top of him. He wanted to die.

He closed his eyes, haunted by the sound of his own laughter.

++

If Neclord were capable of sweating, he would have been dripping with perspiration. Creating and maintaining the illusion was taking more out of him than he had originally thought it would. Flik's mind was revolting against the images Neclord was providing for it--not surprisingly--and if he accidentally let a gap be woven in to his tapestry the man's mind could easily slip through it, making all of his work so far for naught. And he'd be damned--oh, wait. Neclord resisted the urge to chuckle at his own joke.

For the countless time this evening, Flik once again almost threw himself completely back into reality. Neclord wished he could have gotten up and hit the man, but doing so would have shattered the effect. For all intents and purposes, what Flik was seeing _was_ real; stepping through the door would have allowed anyone to see exactly what he was seeing. But Neclord himself was hiding, just a phantom in this mini-universe he'd created. It had to be so, otherwise, none of this would even have an effect on Viktor.

Speaking of the dreadful man, Neclord sensed his presence just outside the house. Neclord was shocked that he could have gotten so close without him realizing it sooner. Spinning elaborate illusions like this were really very dangerous. He'd probably not do it again--at least, not with someone as bothersome as Viktor. 

Not that Viktor _or_ his man would be making it through this alive. Neclord fully intended on killing them once the full impact of his creation could be felt. And it was going to be so _perfect_.

Neclord heard Viktor's footfalls as he thundered up the stairs, and watched with growing delight as the door--not visible in his illusion--flew open. Viktor's face was a mask of confusion which swiftly grew into disbelief as he caught sight of the vision on the bed. Neclord smothered a cackle, not wanting to make himself seen or heard just yet. The damning tableau he was witnessing would stay with him the rest of his immortal days.

Part of him wished it could go on forever, but then he wouldn't get to kill them. Oh well. It had been fun. Neclord started unweaving the illusion.

++

Viktor swung open the door only to be faced with an utterly puzzling scene. For one thing, he used to _live_ in this house, and he didn't remember this particular room looking this particular way. His mother had despised the color blue, but this room was done up in so many different shades of it, his mother would have had fits. And second, the meager furniture in the room was much nicer than what they could have ever afforded, and it was still in good condition, besides.

And the third factor that made Viktor wonder if perhaps he hadn't gone absolutely insane was the sight of Flik and what appeared to be another Flik in quite a compromising position on the bed. But surely his eyes deceived him; there was just no way that was possible. As he took a staggering step forward, Viktor realized that they were locked in more than what could have been described as "compromising position."

Oh.

Viktor wasn't capable of any other intelligent thought. What the hell was going on? It didn't take a genius to realize that something was very wrong about this whole situation. Before he could stop himself, Viktor's thoughts were vocalized.

"What the hell...?!"

Flik's gaze shot up from where he'd hiding his face in the bedding to regard Viktor with unending relief. Viktor was moved into action. He didn't know what was going on, but he couldn't ignore a look like that one. Moving across the room, he pulled the two apart, lifting the figure on top away by the back of his shirt. The Flik that was not Flik stared at him for a long moment, before smiling widely. The Flik that was Flik sat up on the bed and pulled his shirt down indignantly and slid several feet away from the other him.

Both Flik and Viktor watched, mouths agape, as the double winked. The moment the action was completed, it disappeared, and Viktor was left holding nothing. Flik fell unceremoniously to the floor, because along with the demon, the bed and other fancy furnishings had vanished. It was gone--the room was the way Viktor remembered it. 

Except for one thing. Neclord lounged in a relaxed, yet dignified manner in what used to be a window sill, wearing a smiled that threatened to break into laughter at any moment. 

Flik suddenly remembered why and how he had gotten there. He doubled over as if he'd been punched in the stomach, because appropriately enough, having memories slam back into one's head is the mental equivalent of receiving such a blow. Viktor spared him a quick, concerned glance, but was unable to go to him. Neclord looked at Flik with mock-pity before turning to Viktor.

"He enjoyed it, you know," the vampire said, not making any move to leave his perch in the window. Viktor didn't need to know that it was because he lacked the power to move with ease. The large man stared at him blankly and Flik, standing to his full height, looked more than ready to kill.

Viktor surprised everyone by laughing. He looked at the vampire with no small amount of amusement in his eyes. "You think I blame him? Hell, if _I_ had Flik attacking me like that, I certainly wouldn't complain." 

Flik's expression became unreadable, and Neclord's eyebrows drew together in a deep frown. The vampire seemed unsure of how to react--his plan was beginning to blow up in his face. Flik was still reacting in a way that was satisfactory, but Viktor was _not_ cooperating. Perhaps he had read the situation wrong. Perhaps Viktor was not as possessive as he seemed--or maybe he had underestimated Viktor's hatred for him. Perhaps he would have been better off maiming Flik, after all. In any case, this was not turning out the way that he had hoped.

"But do you realize that the attacker was not chosen by me, but by your man, there?" Neclord scrambled to gain the upper hand once again.

"So he's narcissistic. That's better than being a life-sucking vampire." Viktor refused to let Neclord take command again. The point of Viktor's sword rose, level with the vampire's neck. Flik crossed the short distance to Viktor's side, though he felt useless without a weapon. The large man's words were doing nothing to settle him--indeed, they were making him feel worse. But right now Viktor wasn't his main problem, nor was it what had just been happening a few moments before. Right now he was going to tear Neclord into pieces.

Neclord said nothing--could think of nothing to say--and even though he was still sitting, he managed to look down his nose at both of the men. "Well, you certainly are barbaric, aren't you?"

Viktor smiled humorlessly. "Get up, you thrice-damned son of a bitch." The sword's point was close enough to touch the loose, dry skin of Neclord's jowls. Another step forward and the blade would impale the vampire's throat. He looked neither aware nor concerned about it. 

"I would, truly, but I'm afraid holding this little charade has been quite taxing. I'd love to stick around and play, but..."

Viktor, sensing what was about to happen, brought his blade forward and down with enough force to splinter the wooden window sill completely in half. Unfortunately, that was all it had a chance to destroy--the vampire was gone.

Jerking his blade free with a curse, Viktor let it fall to the floor with a deafening clatter. Flik was surprised to find that the intense rage he'd harbored only a moment before had dissipated, leaving him only with an overwhelming weariness. He looked on Viktor's display with tired eyes.

"Forget it," he muttered, turning to the door. "Just forget it." He left without seeing if Viktor would follow.

++

Two weeks later they were well way to Radat, however, the somber atmosphere of North Window still continued to haunt them. Things were tense between Flik and Viktor, things that desperately need to be said were left silent; hanging. Traveling as they were, it was easy to ignore their problems. Claiming weariness at night was easier than lying.

The problem was completely on Flik's side, either. Though the guilt he felt was gnawing and eating away at him inside, Viktor wasn't helping matters by completely failing to acknowledge that they had a problem at all. When he wasn't forcing a happy countenance, he was blatantly ignoring Flik, both of which were making him to retreat further and further away from the other man. Flik wasn't sure if Viktor were disgusted or simply made uncomfortable by his presence, or what. 

They were in shambles. 

For once, Flik wasn't grateful that they'd stopped for a while. Viktor had suggested a break an hour or so ago, and Flik, not wanting to argue with the man, had obliged. There was a small spring nearby, so he took the opportunity to wash himself and his clothes.

The water was clear for the most part, though it wasn't very deep. He could see the blue sky reflected in its glassy surface, the image interrupted only by the occasional falling leaf. It was beautiful. Flik hated it. 

Standing naked in the spring, Flik gazed down at his own watery reflection. He despised seeing it anymore--not that it made him uncomfortable, but rather that he resented it. He wished he could say that none of this would have ever happened if not for him--at least there would be someone convenient to blame--but he couldn't. He knew damn well that what had happened would have happened, regardless of whom Viktor was traveling with. But still, to have his faults used in such a humiliating way. Flik dashed the surface of the spring with his hand, obliterating his reflection.

He did not desire himself. He did not wonder what it would be like. He did not wish to meet someone similar to himself so that he could find out. What Neclord had picked up on was his _shame_, not his desire. Flik knew he was attractive, but he also knew it was prideful to admit it; to flaunt it; especially when those around him were not. Beauty in men was not something to be proud of--or even something to acknowledged. Over time, a stigma grew from his modesty/vanity--he felt guilty that he was attractive when others were not. So when Viktor called him beautiful, it was like he was pointing out something that was vaguely shameful, not complimenting him.

__

Shame was different than narcissism. Flik would not let himself believe otherwise.

A stir in the bushes alerted Flik to another's presence. He turned just in time to see Viktor's back turn as he retreated.

"Wait," Flik called out, freezing the other man in his tracks. Viktor reluctantly turned, but kept his gaze averted from Flik's unclad body. Inwardly, Flik sighed. It was time to deal with this _now_. He was tired of dancing around Viktor and feeling guilty. Couldn't he just tell him that he disgusted him?

"We need to talk, I think," said Flik, stepping out of the spring and locating his pants. This conversation was going to be awkward enough as it was, he didn't need to be naked, too. However, Viktor did not lose his uncomfortable expression even after Flik had dressed. Flik became worried--he didn't know that it was _that_ bad. Viktor looked ready to bolt at any moment.

Flik fought down his rising panic. "I'm sorry," he began. "You have to know that I...what happened, back there...I really..." Flik was having trouble deciding how he was going to say what he needed to say. "Viktor, truly, I--" He cut himself off, staring up at Viktor with troubled blue eyes. "I don't know what to say other than 'I'm sorry.'"

The eyes that met Flik's were equally pained. Flik took a tentative step forward. "I know that what happened was horrible, and that it was mostly my fault. You have to believe me when I say--"

Viktor broke in by pulling Flik into a smothering embrace, arms wrapped tight enough around him to squeeze the breath from his lungs. But any discomfort he might have felt was lost in the wave of relief brought on by the man's touch.

"Shut up, Flik," he said, "I'm sorry for letting that happen to you. I--Neclord--it was my--"

"Let's just leave it at that, alright?" It was Flik's turn to interrupt. "We're both sorry." A few long moments pasted, and eventually Viktor released him. 

No longer swayed by the man's presence, Flik was dismayed to realize that a few things still weighed heavily on his conscience. He frowned up at the man. "Though I don't understand how you can say that, after what...happened," he said.

For the first time in days Viktor's face was brightened by a smile. "I meant what I said up there--if you attacked me like that, I'd enjoy it too."

"Viktor, that's--"

"I know you don't think of yourself that way," he said. "I can hardly get you to acknowledge a damn compliment, so why would I think that? What makes you think I would let Neclord make me doubt you?" 

Flik looked up at Viktor gratefully. It wasn't the end-all to his problems, but it was a start. 

"You're beautiful, Flik. Get over it." The younger man looked like he still didn't know what to say. Viktor was more than willing to help him out. "Just say 'thank you.'"

Flik studied him for a long while. Then, with a smile starting to pull at his own lips, he spoke.

"Thanks," he near-whispered. And then suddenly humor was alight in his eyes as well. "But how did you know which one was me?" 

Viktor's raucous laughter echoed off the surface of the water. "Well, you _certainly_ weren't the one on top," he said, chuckling.

Flik tried to be angry, but he just didn't have it in him. He hit Viktor anyway.

++

THE END

++


End file.
